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A Revelation in Ikea

I’m ogling bedspreads at Ikea when it finally hits me: I’m staying. Staying here. In the US. In Philadelphia. Not moving back to London. It’s like a brick.  And not because it hurts but because it’s so solid, so certain, so “Duh!  Where have you been for the past three years?  You’re holding auditions for…

Bad News

Well folks, I’m afraid I’ve got some bad news.  Not they’ve-decided-to-stop-producing-fair-trade-chocolate bad news, or even I’ve-decided-to-join-a-commune-and-go-off-the-grid bad news but bad news nonetheless. You might have noticed that I missed Monday’s post, and those of you who have been following my blog since the beginning of my Great Date Experiment will have noticed that my posts…

The Real Reason I Want(ed) to Go to Europe

You want to know the real reason I love to travel?  Sure, I’m into museums and history and discovering that my way of doing things isn’t the only way but really I like the girl I become when I travel: fearless, self-sufficient, confident, and—get this!—I almost never get lost when I’m somewhere else. I still…

Sunday Afternoon: Stranger Than Fiction

When I was living in London, I worked at a shop in Putney called Julian Graves.  (For all my American readers, Julian Graves is like Harry and David’s, only smaller and more chocolate-oriented.)  One evening, about an hour before close, a man came into the shop and bought a fruit bar.  He paid with a…

Have Coffee, Will Conference

Later this month, because I’m every bit at schizophrenic in my approach to professional development as I am in my approach to men, I’m taking some time “off” to deliver a paper at the annual conference of the Congress on Research in Dance. (And just in case that’s not geeky enough, the conference is co-sponsored…

There’s a Reason I’m Ignoring You

It’s officially fall here in the City of Brotherly Love.  I know this because A) I’m back at my favorite coffee shop drinking my first non-iced mocha of the season, B) I’m wearing two shirts, a pair of fleece pants, a scarf and I’m still cold and C) I’ve received yet another Facebook friend request…

The American Heiress

It was so much easier to get married in the nineteenth century.  I know this not because I majored in history as an undergraduate or because I spent the majority of my teen years writing sappy historical fiction but because I’ve just finished reading The American Heiress by Daisy Goodwin. That’s right: I’ve completed my…